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by myloveiamthespeedofsound



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-08 01:25:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6833191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myloveiamthespeedofsound/pseuds/myloveiamthespeedofsound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This summary has been eaten by spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home

**Author's Note:**

> In the aftermath of the war, Natasha and Steve find each other again.

__ I see where you've been, stuck in your doubt  
I know where you are and I'm coming to bail you out  
Engulfed in your sin, and what you have known  
I know where you are and I'm coming to carry you home _  
_ __ The Native Sibling - Carry You

 

The run down motel in the middle of nowhere was a far cry from where they had been just a few weeks ago, but it would do. T’Challa had offered Steve a place back in Wakanda once he had rescued his team from the raft, but Steve hadn't wanted to impose more than he already had. Wakanda was already housing Bucky, they didn't need more fugitives. Which is what they were. Fugitives. 

_ Congratulations, Cap, you're a criminal.  _

Steve sighed heavily and dressed quietly into a pair of sleep pants and a t-shirt he found in one of the bags on the dresser. The shield T’Challa had given to him before he'd left Wakanda rested against the wall by the door - black and silver, it matched the new black fight suit he'd also been given. While Steve was more than grateful for the gift it still seemed wrong.  Then again most everything about his life right then seemed wrong. He raked a hand through damp hair and sunk down onto the bed. 

Clint had taken off to find Fury and from there hopefully find a way to move his family after Tony had decided to up and out that little secret.  For the life of him Steve still couldn’t figure out what the hell Tony had been thinking.  Steve knew Clint had joined the fight fully aware of the consequences, but Steve still felt the weight of the guilt of knowing his family now had to be uprooted. The rest of them had separated into two groups. Sam and Scott headed back to Scott's lab. Out of everyone they were the ones most dependent on their gear. Scott figured he could break into his lab, get himself set up again and then break into the Avengers Compound and steal another set of wings for Sam. 

_ “It's risky,” Steve said, arms crossed as he looked between the two other men. “Starks got the Compound pretty secure and I imagine he’ll ramp it up even more,” he pointed out.  _

_ “Well, with all due respect, Cap,” Scott started and Steve swore he could see a panic spread across Sam's face. “It won't be the first time I've robbed that place.” _

_ Steve looked from Scott to Sam.  _

_ “I was going to tell you, Steve, it just - never seemed like the right time,” Sam said quickly.  _

_ “Usually right after the theft occurs is the right time,” Steve pointed out. He glanced to Natasha where she stood with Wanda - or more accurately held the other girl up, Wanda still more than affected by what had been done to her.  It was like the past few weeks hadn't even happened in that moment. The unspoken dialogue between them that they had perfected first as partners and then as co leaders of the Avengers. He read her for an answer as to whether she agreed with the plan, whether she thought it even possible. Not that they had many other options. She nodded.  _

_ Steve nodded at the Sam and Scott. “Get it done. Call when you're ready to rendezvous.”   _

That had left him, Natasha, and Wanda in the crappy motel.  Steve picked up the burner phone on the dresser and checked it again. He hadn't expected anything but the action made him feel at least a little less like he was doing nothing.  He started to wonder if maybe he shouldn't have taken T’Challa up on his offer.  Although while T’Challa was able to forgive Bucky, Steve had not been certain if he would extend the same  grace to Wanda, and the last thing he wanted now was to put Wanda in any situation that might make her feel worse.  

The girl had been through more than enough these past couple weeks.  She’d still been barely above catatonic when Steve had left her and Natasha in the other room, and the haunted look that had settled on the girl’s features tore at the both of them.  While they both knew Wanda was capable of so many things, more than they were themselves in so many ways, there was still a sense of responsibility there.  Despite what she’d been through, Wanda was still just a kid, barely twenty.  Natasha and Steve knew she was more than able to take care of herself  _ on _ the field, it was  _ off  _ the field that sometimes things fell apart.  They tried their best to be someone Wanda could lean on, but Steve knew Pietro’s absence was felt strongly in times like this.  

_ “If I’m not out in fifteen minutes, leave, I’ll find you later,” Natasha said as she tucked her hair under a ball cap, pushed a pair of shades over her eyes and exited the car they had stolen.  Steve watched her until she disappeared into the Walmart and then let his eyes lift up to the rear view mirror.  Wanda sat in the backseat, her legs pulled up to her chest.  Every few seconds her hand would drift to her neck, touch it gently - as though she still expected that damn collar to be there - and then drop.  She looked impossibly small in the only clothes they could find for her on the raft, and somehow both younger and older than she really was all at once. _

_ He knew it would be a long time until he stopped seeing her in that cell - the vacant stare, the collar to keep her powers under control, the straightjacket.  He knew it would be even longer until the damage it had done to her would subside.  His jaw clenched in anger - anger at Ross’ people for putting here there, anger at himself for being the catalyst to it all in the first place.  He wondered if he would ever stop being so damn angry.   _

_ “I’m sorry,” he said, breaking the heavy silence in the car.  _

_ Wanda lifted her gaze to catch his in the mirror.  She shook her head slowly.  “You did nothing to apologize for, Steve,” she replied. _

_ Steve ducked his head and pressed his lips together, he swallowed hard before he turned in the seat to look back at her.  “If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have been in that place,” he pointed out.  Wanda had lost so much in her young life, and it killed him to know she’d lost her freedom again - regardless of it being temporary - because of him.  _

_ “No.  If it wasn’t for you and Natasha I would  _ **_still_ ** _ be in that place,” Wanda countered.  She held his gaze for a moment before she looked out the window at the other cars in the parking lot.  “I am an Avenger, Steve, but that does not mean I follow you blindly.  I fight for what I believe is right,” she turned her head to look back at him.  “You taught me that,” she added and smiled softly.  “ If I did not think you were right, I would not have fought with you,” she declared. _

_ Steve gave her a small smile back.  But before he could say anything else Natasha slipped back into the car.  “Go,” she said as she tossed the bags into the backseat.   _

He'd just set the phone back down when heard a soft knock at the door. He moved to the door and checked through the peephole before he undid the chain lock and let Natasha into the room. 

“Hey,” she said as she walked past him and started to dig through the bags. 

“How is she?”  Steve asked, concerned.  

Natasha pulled out a few articles of clothing and looked at Steve.  “Asleep finally,” she assured him.  She moved toward the bathroom but paused just short and turned back to look at him.  “She’ll be okay, Steve.  She’s tough,” her lips pressed together in a tight line.  “Tougher than any of us in a lot of ways.”  

Steve nodded at the assurance and sunk back onto the bed as Natasha disappeared into the bathroom.  She left the door open and he could hear her moving around.  He smiled a little to himself as he heard her hum a song that had been on the radio as they’d been driving, before the sound of the shower coming on drowned her out.  Steve moved to lay in the bed, his hands laced behind his head. 

_ “Natasha?” Steve said as he walked into the guest suite T’Challa had given him to rest up in after they had gotten Bucky under. The surprise at seeing her there was more than evident in his tone.  _

_ “You didn't think I'd let you break into a highly guarded, underwater prison by yourself, did you?” she asked and tried to follow up the quip with a smile that fell a little short.  _

_ “I thought I might have been breaking  _ **_you_ ** _ out,” Steve replied as he moved into the room. He was more than a little relieved he wouldn't have to. He knew what she risked by letting him and Bucky go. He had figured she would have been taken into custody with the others.  _

_ “Such little faith you have in me, Rogers,” Natasha said as she moved closer to him. She was quiet as she stopped in front of him, her breath hitched in her throat and she lifted her arms like she was going to pull him in for a hug but then dropped them mid movement as she changed her mind. But not entirely. Her hands curled to fists and rested lightly against his chest.  The feel of his heart as it hammered away was comforting and her own skipped a beat or two.  The weight of the past few weeks crushed down on her and she was thrown by how much she just wanted to collapse into Steve right then. _

_ Steve watched her closely. “Natasha…” he started softly. His own hands moved, hesitated, and then curled lightly around her hands.  There was so much he wanted to say to her - so much he  _ **_needed_ ** _ to say to her.   _

_ She swallowed a little and then dropped her hands. “We can talk about it later,” she declared, the moment broken. _

_ Steve turned and moved to sit in a chair in the room.   “How'd you know I was even here?” he asked.  _

_ Natasha leaned against the desk. “T’Challa called me,” she paused and there was a slight smile. “In addition to probably being the first person to apologize for trying to kill me, he mentioned you had made your way here.”  She paused. “I'm sorry about, Bucky.” _

_ Steve shrugged a little. “At least I know where he is this time,” he said. It hurt, to lose Bucky almost as quickly as he had found him. But he trusted T’Challa to keep his friend safe. For the first time since that moment on the freeway when the mask fell off the Winter Soldier he knew things would be okay. Despite everything  _ **_Bucky_ ** _ be okay.   _

_ Natasha watched him for a moment.  She wanted to press it, but she knew there was no time.  If they wanted to get the others out they would have to move quickly.  “So - you got a plan?” she asked, a brow perked. _

_ “Well, I did - but I’m guessing yours is better,” he answered. _

_ She smirked a little at that.  “That’s the smartest thing I’ve heard out of you in weeks,” she teased.   _

The sound of the shower running stopped and Steve was pulled from his thoughts as Natasha walked out of the bathroom a few moments later.  She was dressed in a pair of tiny little cotton shorts that had Steve’s blood running in directions it probably shouldn’t and a tank top that left even less to the imagination.  Her hair hung in damp curls and he shifted in the bed to sit up.  “Uhh - hey,” he stammered out as he looked her over. 

Natasha touched the ends of her hair, suddenly self conscious at the gaze. She hadn’t even thought too much about it when she grabbed the first thing she saw to pass for pyjamas.  But now she suddenly realized what exactly she was wearing.  She tugged a little at the end of the tank top.  It wasn’t that she was one to ever really be uncomfortable about what she wore, but the way his eyes darkened as he looked at her, the way he moved in the bed, the way the energy seemed to shift between them, she found herself thinking she should have been a bit more selective in her shopping.  

She moved none the less to the bed and sat down beside him.  She glanced to him at her side and then let her eyes fall toward the shield that rested on the wall opposite of them, their now matching black suits were slung over the chair at the little desk in the room.  Steve stiffed slightly beside her as her gaze moved.  She rested her hands in her lap.  “Still feels weird?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.

“Yeah, a little bit,” he admitted.

Natasha looked over at him and shrugged.  “If it helps, you pull it off well.”  Which was in all honesty a small understatement.  Steve looked good in pretty much anything - hell the man had even managed to pull off pleated khakis - but there had been a certain something when he’d arrived on the helipad in Wakanda in that damn black suit.  Of course she would never dare admit it - but there had been a good couple of minutes when her mind had gone completely blank on why they had even been there in the first place. 

Steve ducked his head with a soft smile.  “Thanks, I think,” he replied.  He was quiet for a moment and then looked over at her.  “I just - “ he paused and let out a breath.  “Being Captain America was the first time I felt like I was doing what I was  _ supposed _ to be doing.  And now - “ he shrugged.  “I don’t think I know how to be just Steve Rogers anymore,” he admitted quietly.  

“Steve…” Natasha started.  She shifted on the bed, curled a leg under her and faced him as she reached across to take one of his hands in hers.  


He looked down at their fingers laced together.  “Maybe Ultron was right - I don’t know how to live without a war,” he continued. That was what he had been made for after all - war.  He’d signed away his life for the greater good and who was he to dare to think he deserved something outside of that.  They’d plucked him, a scrawny kid from Brooklyn who probably wouldn’t have lived to see his twenty fifth birthday the way he was going, and made him into something more.  Something better.  They had made him Captain America and Steve knew that came with a certain responsibility, came with a certain sacrifice.

_ God’s righteous man.  Pretending like you can live without a war. _

“And if I’m not - “ a small pause as his voice wavered.  It felt like coming out of that damn ice all over again.  He hadn’t lost decades this time, but the end result was still the same.  Everything he had known, everything he had built, was  _ gone. _  “If I’m not Captain America then what good am I?”  He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat.  Steve Rogers had just been some kid, there was nothing special about him, nothing worth following.  What if he wasn’t worth a damn without everything else.  “What if there’s no place in this world for me without Captain America.”

_ I have no place in the world.   _

Natasha ached for him.  For the immeasurable loss he had suffered from the moment General Ross had stepped foot in the Compound - the way the hits had kept coming; the accords, Peggy, Bucky, her own inability to follow him, and finally giving up the shield.  That which he had relied on so heavily for so long to define him had just been stripped away.  She could see the lost look in his eyes, see the way he couldn’t quite hold himself in the same way.  He was floundering and she wanted nothing more than to ground him.  And while she knew he would never expect her to, or even allow her to apologize, just like she would never expect or allow him to, for not taking his side she felt the guilt of it none the less.  She had helped where she could, but this war between them had left him shaken and rattled and she hated that she hadn’t been there in the fray of it.  But she was there now, and she’d do whatever it took to pick up the pieces left behind and put him back together.

“Captain America didn’t make you,” she assured him gently.  “ _ You _ made Captain America.”  She reached her free hand to curl under his chin and lifted it slightly so he’d look at her.  She searched his eyes before she spoke again, “everything great about you - even the parts that drive me absolutely insane because you’re so damn stubborn half the time - that’s all  _ you. _  That’s  _ still _ there.  It doesn’t matter what color you wear, or what’s on your shield, or if you even  _ have _ a shield.”  She held his gaze.  “There’s always a place for you.  Not just Captain America, but  _ you. _ ”  She gave his hand a small squeeze.  She wanted so desperately to say more - to tell him that he would always have a place with her even if the rest of the world forsake him.  “No one can take that away from you.”

Steve nodded a little at her words.  He wondered for the millionth time how she could  _ do that _ .  How she could just take him at his worst and turn it around, how she always knew what to say to make everything suddenly seem a little bit better.  It was still  _ there _ of course - the anger, the guilt, the  _ everything  _ \- but right then, in that moment, it didn’t feel so daunting as it had.  It was the church all over, it was all those nights she would talk him down from the worst of his demons, or just sit with him and let her presence be enough to ground him.  He glanced down at their hands laced together and wondered what the hell he had been thinking with Sharon, how he could have ever thought she’d compare, how could he ever have thought for even a second  _ anyone _ could.  “Natasha, I - “ he started and looked up.

There was a rawness to his voice at that, to the moment itself and it wasn’t that she entirely  _ wanted _ to pull away, but her long standing instincts kicked it.  Too much, too close, they would rapidly descend down a path that would require honesty about the way they felt and it forced a knee jerk reaction in her.  “We should get some sleep,” she cut him off as she pulled her hand away.  She immediately regretted the words, but it was too late to take them back now.

“Yeah, okay,” Steve agreed, and she could swear she heard a soft tone of disappointment, and moved to stand up.  He leaned over to grab a pillow from the bed.    
  
“What are you doing?” Natasha asked, her brow raised slightly.   
  
“I was going to take the floor?” he replied, confused.   
  
Natasha glanced at the floor and back at him.  “I’m not making you sleep on that floor, Steve, it’s disgusting,” she pointed out.  Threadbare and probably hadn’t seen a good cleaning in as long as the motel had been standing.  

Steve looked around the room helplessly and pulled the pillow closer to him.  “I just - I thought - “ he stammered. 

She laughed softly as she pulled back the sheets and gave him a look.  “Just get in the damn bed, Rogers.”  They were adults.  There was only one bed.  She wasn’t going to make him sleep on the floor just to let him be a gentleman.  It was just a bed.  A rather small bed she realized as they both crawled in on opposite sides.  A queen would have been cozy with Steve and his imposing figure.  The double was downright tight.  They shifted around and she could feel his body stiffen with hesitation as he snaked an arm underneath her, the only place it really had to go - and again as his other moved to fall lightly against her side.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly, the uncertainty clear in his words.     
  
Natasha nodded.  “Yeah,” she replied after a moment, just as softly, suddenly she mistrustful of her own voice.  Even more she suddenly mistrusted her own body as she felt his against her back, as the urge to trail her own arm along his that rested on her side threatened to overtake her.  She curled her fists under her chin instead.  

_ Don’t be an idiot, _ she chided herself.  It was just a bed.  So what if he curled around her perfectly, so what if in that moment she felt more at peace than she had in years.  So what if this felt  _ right _ in some undefinable way that most things with him had started to feel somewhere along the line.  All the long conversations, the midnight coffees, the nights with take out as they worked out plans and strategies for their team or even just caught up on movies.  The friendship they’d had since their days in SHIELD had only intensified as they led the Avengers together, and all those little thoughts, the  _ feelings _ she had for him that were anything but  _ just friends _ suddenly pushed forward.   _ Home. _  It felt like home and she should have just let him take the damn floor. 

Steve's heart hammered in his chest as he settled behind her. It wasn't like he'd never held her in his arms - they'd hugged, he'd pulled her in close plenty of times as they ducked behind his shield, he'd carried her from the wreckage Camp Lehigh. This was different somehow. Close, without the need of a fight or the excuse of the world falling around them.  A choice.  Intimate.

His gaze fell onto the ivory skin of her neck, his senses overwhelmed by the nearness of her. The soft scent of the shampoo she'd just used, the feel of her damp curls as they soaked a wet spot in his shirt, the warmth of her body as it pressed against him, and  _ skin _ . So much skin left bare by the sorry excuse for pajamas. His thoughts quickly drifted to places they shouldn't go. To how it would feel to graze his lips against the bare expanse of her neck. How he could so easily tighten his hold around her and pull her even closer. How easily her leg slid between his, how he longed to run fingers along the line of her calf, up her thigh…  “I kissed Sharon,” he blurted out suddenly. 

Natasha stiffened. The pang of jealousy she had felt before when they had brought Steve in - when she saw the two of them standing so close together - hit her again. A sick feeling that coiled in her stomach and made her heart skip a beat. “Oh,” she said evenly. She tried to push the jealous thoughts aside. Steve was her friend, she'd never asked for more or given indication that maybe she  _ wanted _ more. He was free to kiss whoever he damn well pleased. So why did it hurt so much. 

Steve immediately regretted the sudden outburst at her reaction to it. He didn't even know what had compelled him to blurt it out - just that his thoughts had taken a less than innocent turn and he had suddenly felt like it would be the proper thing to do. “I - it didn't mean anything,” he started. Which somehow made him feel worse about the whole situation. Steve Rogers didn't kiss pretty girls for no good reason.  No, Steve Rogers was the world's leading expert in waiting too long and letting the women he loved - all two of them - slip through his fingers. “It was just a really shitty week and she was nice and helped us, and reminded me so much of Peggy in some ways,” and yet she wasn't a thing like her in others. “But it was wrong,  it felt all wrong.”

Natasha was deadly still as he talked, and while the jealousy still raged she had to admit there was something adorable about Steve trying to ramble his way through explaining a kiss. “Because of Peggy?” she prompted when he mentioned it had felt wrong. 

“That was part of it,” he answered.  He knew he had been projecting, that Sharon represented his last true link to Peggy.  In hindsight he hadn’t handled her death as well as he could have.  

Natasha shifted in his arms and turned to face him.  She kept her hands curled under her chin as she looked up at him.  “And the other part?” she asked.

Steve’s breath hitched in his throat.  They were close - so close that she she spoke he could feel her breath against his face, could practically feel her lips against his.  He knew they stood on the edge of some proverbial cliff.  That his answer right then would dictate exactly where they went from here.  Steve had been angry at a great many things the past few weeks.  He’d never been angry at  _ her _ though.  Even when they stood on opposite sides of the line drawn in the sand, through all of it he’d never been angry.  He had been hurt, and he knew she had too.  But more than anything he’d just been  _ lost. _  Adrift without her to have his back.  He  _ needed _ her.  He  _ loved _ her.  He’d known that for a while, he’d just never been able to admit to it.  He’d had reasons - they were friends, he didn’t want to ruin that.  He thought she deserved more than what he could give.  He thought Banner could give her more when he saw that start to develop.  In some subconscious way he knew he was waiting as well - waiting for the text he’d gotten on the cusp of all of this.  He didn’t feel right moving on,  _ truly  _ moving on until Peggy was gone.  

He held her gaze as he slid a hand behind her neck.  He didn’t want to wait anymore.  He didn’t want to let this moment pass them by - this small, quiet moment that maybe on paper wasn’t perfect but  _ felt _ perfect right then.  He had waited so long to be honest with her about how he really felt, he didn’t want to wait anymore.  “She wasn’t you.”  That was what it came down to - as nice as Sharon was, as pretty, as much as she had helped him, and as much as Steve could see her as someone he would enjoy getting to know, she wasn’t Natasha.  Whatever momentary and misplaced  _ crush _ he might have had, it paled in comparison to the depth of his feelings for the woman in his arms now. 

Natasha couldn’t help the smile at the admission, at the way her hands uncurled on their own accord and touched the faint stubble on his jawline, at the way her heart skipped a beat and then  _ hammered _ against her chest.  It was a strange sort of giddy, a high she couldn’t quite describe.  Natasha Romanoff, the infamous Black Widow, turned into a gooey teenage girl over three little words.   _ She wasn’t you. _

“I know I should have - “ he trailed off and shrugged a little.  “Said something. A long time ago, I just… I’ve never been that good at timing,” he finished with a sheepish smile.

“Steve - “ Her hands moved further up his jaw and cupped around his neck.

“Mmhm?” he answered.

“Shut up and kiss me,” Natasha all but demanded with a soft smirk and pulled him in.  Steve grinned and obliged.  His hand moved up into her hair, and his arm tightened around her as they kissed.  

It was tinged with hesitation at first, a testing the waters of sorts, before they both deepened the kiss.  The desperation they had both felt for the past few weeks took over, the emotional toll of their separation - however brief - that neither had much been prepared for.  It was easy to gloss over how much they actually  _ did _ rely on each other when they were in each others’ space, when they spent all their time together - when there was no opportunity to have to  _ miss _ the connection.  Natasha darted her tongue into his mouth as it opened for her, her hands moved to his broad shoulders and she wrapped a leg around him to try to leverage herself in even closer.  There was barely an inch between them but it still felt like too much space.  His hand moved from her hair to her leg, wrapped around the thigh she had lifted up, hooked under her knee, and pulled her in as he pushed forward to guide her onto her back.  

He  pressed into her and it felt like every inch of his body was on fire, every nerve so carefully attuned the the feel of her below him.  He could hear his blood pounding in his ears and he couldn’t stop the soft moan as she pressed her hips up into his.  Natasha’s hands tugged at the hem of his shirt and Steve lifted himself up to pull it off as she tugged off her own.  

He hesitated as he looked back at her, now nearly naked on the bed.  They had gone from zero to sixty in ten seconds flat it felt like and the sudden, sobering, insecurity of his own inexperience hit him hard in that moment.  He had absolutely no idea what he was doing.  He  _ wanted _ her, he wanted her more than anything he had ever wanted, but this was brand new territory for him.  His throat dried and he struggled to fall back into the moment.  He leaned back to sit on the bed.

Natasha’s brow crinkled in concern as he moved away suddenly and she pressed herself up on her elbows.  “Steve?” she asked.  “What’s wrong?”  There was no immediate answer and then it dawned on her all at once.  Steve who had spent his days in the Army pining after Peggy Carter, Steve who had shrugged off all her attempts to get him a date.  Steve who had spent nearly every waking moment with her since Ultron and clearly wasn’t giving himself time to see anyone.  Steve who could barely casually  _ kiss _ someone.  She was suddenly keenly aware of where they were - some piece of crap motel in a bed that they could barely even  _ fit _ on that groaned and creaked with their every move, sheets that were probably more than questionable in the clean department, paper thin walls with Wanda just on the other side of them.  Exhausted and running on empty, more than wrecked and ravaged from recent events.  This wasn’t right.  Her first time had been anything but special, she wanted to give Steve what she had never had.  She wanted to give  _ them _ better than a desperate night in a bad motel room.  

She reached for her tank top and quickly pulled it back over her head before she moved to straddle his lap where he sat in the middle of the bed.  She leaned down and pressed her lips to his, slowly explored his mouth as she let her hands slide behind his neck and tug gently at the short strands of hair there.  They broke apart after a minute and she let her forehead rest against his. 

“I’m sorry,” he said as his eyes closed, his hands rested on her thighs.  

“Don’t you dare be sorry about this,” she replied and grazed her lips against his lightly.  “We have time.”  Her hands moved to cup his face and she pulled back so that she could hold his gaze.  “I’m not going anywhere,” she promised.  Any last lingering ideas she’d had about compromise, the middle ground, the path of least resistance, had been blown out of the water the instant she saw what they had done to Wanda.  More than that she wouldn’t -  _ couldn’t  _ \- leave Steve now.     


He gave her a soft smile and then tugged her in to kiss again.  His arms moved around her and he gently maneuvered them back to lay in the bed once more.  They settled in close to each other, legs tangled together under the sheets.  Her hands curled against the bare skin of his chest, his arms wrapped around her.  It felt safe, warm - like coming home and their hands traced idle patterns across each other’s skin as the weight of the past few weeks started to lift.  Steve gave her a smile even as sleep threatened to pull him under.  “Can I take you out?  A real date - “ he paused and shrugged sheepishly. “Mind you we’ll have to dine and dash, I’m a little short on funds being a fugitive - but I promise to hold the door open for you on the way out,” he added.

Natasha laughed softly.  “Such a gentleman, Rogers.”  She tucked her head under his chin and let her eyes fall closed.  “I’d love that,” she answered.  A date.  She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d had one of those.  

“I’m glad you’re here,” he mumbled against her hair and she could tell he was about to drift off.  “I missed you.” 

She turned her head a little and pressed a soft kiss to the spot on his neck where her lips met.  “I missed you, too,” she echoed.  His arms tightened for a moment and then loosened.  She listened as his breath started to even out as he drifted into sleep.  Natasha smiled a little to herself.  She had expected this to be scary somehow - well, it still was, in its own way - but there was a peace in it.  A warmth in his arms that she’d long thought she’d never have.  A sense of belonging that had been missing from most of her life and despite the large amount of uncertainty that still faced them she knew they would be okay.  They were together and if she’d taken one thing from recent events it was that they were so much better that way.  Together.  Natasha let her eyes close and she slowly started to drift off.

It was the best sleep Steve had had in years.  At least until a pair of jeans and a t-shirt hitting his face startled him awake.  He immediately snapped up at the sensation -  all but dropping Natasha unceremoniously to floor as he still had her wrapped up in his arms - his instinct ramping into fight mode before he realized it was just clothes that had hit him.

“While I hate to break up the moment, we’ve got work to do,” Fury’s distinctive voice cut through.  Steve could immediately feel his face flush as he realized what was actually going on and he fumbled to separate the shirt from the pants and turn it right side out.  

Natasha groaned at the wake up call.  “You ever heard of this thing called knocking,” she asked rhetorically as Steve pulled the t-shirt that had been thrown at him over his head.  “Please tell me at least one of you brought coffee,” she said as she eyed the audience they had amassed - Fury, Wanda and Clint.  Clint who had been bugging her for months about Steve, Clint who now had a smug, pleased as punch, smirk on his face that she was about two seconds away from wiping off. She could just  _ imagine _ the text Laura would be getting later tonight.   _ The idiots stopped being idiots.  Make sure the kids do their homework.  _   
  
Wanda, with the first real smile either Steve or Natasha had seen on her since Lagos, lifted a drink tray with coffee cups stuck in it.  “Of course,” she assured Natasha.  “I bought it with the money I made off Clint,” she added on and suddenly had a smug smirk that matched Clint’s.  “I had this month in the pool,” she explained and set the coffee down on the desk before she hopped up to sit on the corner.  

“You owe me fifty bucks, Rogers,” Clint said as he moved into the room and leaned against the wall beside Wanda.

“Oh come on, Barton, give the guy a break, he’s on the lam,” Natasha teased as she stood up.  Steve’s face still had a tinge of pink to it as he sat in the bed and seemed more than a little lost as to how to proceed - his fingers curled around the pants that had been thrown at him like a lifeline.  She smirked a little, because if she couldn’t have fun with this then what the hell  _ could _ she have fun with, and besides, Steve needed a crash course in exactly what he had just signed up for.  She leaned in and kissed him, slow and open mouthed and her lips moved into a smile as he froze for a moment before he kissed her back, a hand snaked behind her neck.     
  
“Get a room,” Clint hollered at them, though there was a tinge of amusement to it.

Natasha chuckled as she stood back up and shot Clint a look.  “We did,” she pointed out.  Wasn’t their fault the others decided to crash.  She took her coffee off the tray and gave Wanda a warm smile before she disappeared into bathroom with her cup and a bag of clothes.    
  
“‘Bout damn time, Captain,” she heard Fury from the other room.  Natasha glanced at herself in the mirror and couldn’t help the silly little smile that crossed her lips.   _ Home. _  It might have been a piece of crap motel room the middle of nowhere but as she could hear her friends, and the man she loved, descend into chatter among themselves it was home.


End file.
